


Once Upon a Farmhouse

by LuminiaAravis



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Mind Meld, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:24:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminiaAravis/pseuds/LuminiaAravis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Amanda Grayson, wife and mother, grows homesick for Earth, she takes her young son to her homeworld for a year's vacation. They settle in the inconspicuous, sleepy town of Riverside, Iowa - only a few blocks away from the Kirk household...<br/>(Originally posted on FF.net).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Sarek and Sol III

Hi, everyone! I'm getting ready for the 50th anniversary of the first episode of "Star Trek" airing: September 8th, 1966. Originally billed as a flop, the now-successful series has captured the hearts and minds of a worldwide audience.  So much so that "Beam me up, Scotty" has become a colloquialism; the word "Spock" is in the iPhone dictionary; and out of all the same-sex couples in the galaxy, only one is unanimously known as the "Space Husbands."

"Star Trek" gave us hope for the future during the Cold War, and taught us important lessons about peace, acceptance, cultural relativism, and social justice.

I thought I'd resurrect this old piece to celebrate - my only apology is that it's on permanent hiatus. So it's really unlikely that it'll continue. However, I think I've gotten to say most of what I wanted to say. So I'm essentially okay with how things rest. 

So please, enjoy.

 

> **"Because it... it taught me so much. Like, how you should accept people, whether they be black, white, Klingon or even female... But most importantly, when I had no friends, it made me feel like maybe I did."**

- _Fry, "W_ _here No Fan Has Gone Before;" Futurama, 2002_

* * *

  ** _Of Sarek and Sol III_**

Amanda had insisted time and time again that Spock call Earth by its proper name, instead of referring to it as “Sol III,” which was its scientific name. “Earth isn't just another planet, darling,” she had said. “It's Class M, for one thing, and it's just as much your home as Vulcan is.” Spock had raised his eyebrow at this, making his mother laugh. “Sure, your blood is as green as your father's, but we very well might have lived here permanently, if your father's job wasn't so important.”

As Spock was reminded of his father, Sarek's visage appeared behind his son's eyes as they beheld the heathen blue-green orb, shrouded in white. Spock's breath fogged up the shuttle window, nose practically pressed against the reinforced glass. Sarek had not wanted his wife and son to go on a year-long vacation to Amanda's home world. “I do not understand this feeling of 'home-sickness', as you call it.”

“I don't expect you to. I just need to go to Earth again for a while. I need blue sky, cool breezes, trees, a white Christmas for a change, real Earth coffee in the morning, television...”

“Do I not provide you with the things you miss from Earth, Amanda? Did I not paint the ceiling of our bedchamber white and decorate it with clouds, as you wished; did I not order a real Christmas tree from Earth every year; and do I not supply you with coffee grounds, also from Earth?”

Amanda had touched Sarek's fingers lightly with her own. “It is difficult to explain, Sarek. I love you with all my heart, and I have grown fond of my life here, hard as it has been, but there are some things that you cannot simulate, no matter how hard you try. I need to go back to Earth, for a few months, at least. Is it not reasonable to ask for a respite of sorts after living in an environment hostile to me for ten Earth-years?”

“It is not unreasonable. I simply do not wish it.”

“Well, if my request is reasonable, then why deny it?”

“Do not make me repeat myself, Amanda.”

“It's because I want to take Spock with me, isn't it?”

Amanda shifted in her seat next to Spock on the shuttle, due to land on Earth in a matter of minutes. Spock was drawn out of his reverie. He wanted to believe his mother when she said that he would like it here, but he couldn't help his disgust as he peered tentatively at the freezing oceans and fragile little continents, covered in fragile little life forms. Blue was such an ugly color. Amanda had told her son that Earth was significantly colder than Vulcan, so Spock would have to dress warmly all year 'round. She had given him a crash-course in meteorological phenomena such as snow, hail, sleet, rain, and the like. Spock had not liked the sound of an ambient temperature colder than the freezing point of water that lasted for months on end.

Spock had also reasoned something else out on his own. If the children were unlike that on Vulcan, then maybe they would not make fun of him. Perhaps they would even welcome him into their society, complimenting his heritage instead of making jibes about it. Maybe they would like his unusual ideas and aphorisms. But then there was that phrase, “Children will be children.” If that was true, then nothing would change. Humans did have unfortunately narrow minds.

“Mother?” Spock whispered.

“Yes, dear?”

“We are nearing Earth.”

“Thank God,” Amanda sighed. “Do you think they could have asked us to switch flights one more time?”

“There was one more possible stop on our way here, mother, so yes, they could have asked us to - “ Spock looked at his mother rolling her eyes. “Oh. I understand now that you were being ironic.” Amanda didn't reply. She just gave her eight-year-old son a funny look, halfway between pity and humor. “I will learn, mother. Do not worry.”

“I know you will,” she answered.

The shuttle's pilot came on over the intercom. “This is your captain speaking. We will reach Earth in about five minutes, and we're just about to enter the atmosphere, so everyone should put their seat-belts on, pack up their loose belongings, and put their trays up. We may encounter some heat fluctuation in the cabin and mild turbulence, but don't worry. That's normal. Again, thanks for choosing Interstellar Shuttles, and enjoy your stay on Earth.”

* * *

  _S_ _pock, my son, remember one thing for me while you are away. Remember that your ears and green blood are not the only things that make you different from humans. You have a choice that not many others have. Your life, nay, very existence depends on a razor's-edge decision._

_Many others in this world are born into either poverty or riches, duty or freedom, care or negligence. You were born on the cusp of two worlds, and are currently living on the brink of both. Never were there two races as different as Human and Vulcan. You are the sun balanced on the horizon before it rises, and the moon on the other half of the sky just before it sets. You are extremely privileged, my son, in that you get to choose which world you will become part of in your older years._

_There is virtue in being both Vulcan and Human. Both races have their ways, their rituals, their beliefs, their customs, and their traditions. Each race is mighty in its own right. You know fully well that I am perhaps overly proud of my people, but if the Human race were not equally great, I would not have considered marrying your mother and having her bear you for me._

_Perhaps the greatest difference between your mother and me is our expressions of our respective consciousnesses. I express myself through logical decisions, rationalizations, and well-thought-out actions. Your mother expresses herself based on what she feels, human ideals, and mere whim._

_Emotion is akin to a river; ever-flowing, changing, varying in width and depth. Sometimes rivers flood. Sometimes they freeze solid. Sometimes they dry up and die. Rivers are beautiful and essential for life, but they are ever-changing and unreliable._

_Logic is akin to a dam. Without the river, there would be no need for the dam. The dam's purpose is to make sense of the river; to control it, temper it, almost tame it. Without the dam, the river would run rampant and destroy the life around it. The flowing water would make no sense. Dams can be built so different amounts of water may flow. Some dams allow more water through than others. But if a dam is built so high that it does not allow any water to run through it, then the river dies._

_Your mother will no doubt try to show you that emotions are more important than logic. You have been raised in the Vulcan way, so you will naturally try to refute her statement, but I beseech you not do to so. She is your mother. You must listen to her. You must learn to see the world through her eyes._

_Without emotion, there would be no logic. If logic is too rigid, emotion fails. Emotion is essential for survival. Logic is essential for survival. I pray that, in you, you might find the balance between entropy and order, fluidity and rigidity, Human and Vulcan. You must not choose which world you belong to just yet, my son._

_Remember who you are._

* * *

Ten point three four minutes later, Spock stepped into the light of Sol, Earth's sun. Its rays were cold and dull on his skin, devoid of the infrared radiation that Spock had so craved since he had left Vulcan. The wind picked up on the landing pad, whipping his tidy hair around his ears and eyes, and he shivered, pulling his hands into his sweatshirt. Disgusting blue sky. Scrubby green horizon. Incomplete sentences.

“Darling, others need to get off the shuttle,” Amanda chided quietly. Spock shuffled forward onto the paved ground beneath the shuttle, lugging his suitcase behind him. His mother stepped gracefully from the craft and joined her son, dressed in shorts, a tee-shirt, and sunglasses. “Ah!” she sighed, taking a good, long breath of Earth air and exhaling smoothly. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

This startled Spock. “Mother, are you ill?” he asked, not a little startled. “Which doctor have you seen? Does father know?”

Amanda gave her son that odd look again. “No, dear. It's just an Earth expression. It means that I feel like I had been ill, and am no longer.” Spock raised an eyebrow. Amanda smiled giddily again. “I'm truly alright, dear! Now let's go find the car that'll bring us to Riverside.”

She took Spock by the sleeve - his hands were still deep inside his sweatshirt - and strode off the landing pad to the main building of the depot. A human wearing a dark, three-piece suit was standing by the curb, a sign in his hand that said “Grayson” on it. “Here's our man, Spock.”

“That is not our name, mother,” Spock protested. “Why would that be our driver?”

“That's my human name, dear. Amanda Grayson.” Spock took a moment to reread the English script as Amanda greeted the cab driver, showed him her identification, and handed him her luggage. He took Amanda's and Spock's suitcases and locked them in the trunk, and then opened the door for the Vulcan ambassador's wife and son. The interior of the car was even colder than it was outside.

“Sir, can you turn the air conditioner off?” Amanda asked the driver.

“Ma'am, it’s ninety degrees out!”

“You must,” she insisted. “My son is cold.”

The driver sighed heavily and did as Amanda asked. “Can I at least open a window, ma'am?”

“No,” Amanda answered. “It's only a short drive to Riverside, anyway.” As much as Spock hated to be held, he did not object when his mother hoisted him onto her lap and held him there. The hovercar left the curb. “I know it's difficult, Spock. But I trust that you can make the most of your time here.”


	2. Jimmy Boy

**_Jimmy Boy_ **

Spock, though only eight years old, had been invited by the headmistress to join the sixth-grade class because he already knew all the third-, fourth-, and fifth-grade material. Amanda had declined on Spock's behalf, saying that she wanted him to have a normal experience, and to grow up just like a good Terran child. Arrangements were made so that Spock would not have to go to recess outdoors or eat cafeteria food like his classmates. He would also not be riding the school bus.

But Human school was no different than Vulcan school.

Spock did not understand why the children taunted him, precisely. They called him a devil, a gargoyle, a goblin. On Vulcan, his classmates had made fun of him for being half-Human, but on Earth, they despised him for being half-Vulcan. The teacher, Ms. Roberts, chided him when he answered questions wrongly, and the children heckled him for answering a question correctly. Ms. Roberts encouraged Spock to express himself. The children determined quite early on in the school year that they did not care for the things that made Spock unique.

On Vulcan, it was words. On Earth, it was fists.

Spock waited outside the front door of the school every day. He waited for Amanda to pick him up and bring him home. It was an Indian summer. Terran children ran amok in shorts, sandals, and tee-shirts; the mirthful sweat running down their faces and into their long hair. Bottoms of feet were filthy as were tiny fingers from digging palaces in the dirt. Hearts were light. The red leaves comforted Spock, somewhat. They reminded him of home, and of the triumphant, auburn sky he had left behind. The blue dome of the Terran sky still made him weak in the knees. Summer breezes chilled him to the bone.

“Hey, Freak!”

Spock had been unfamiliar with both of these terms until his given name had become “Hey Freak.” Hey. Interjection. Used to call attention or to express pleasure, surprise, or bewilderment. Freak. Noun. A person or animal on exhibition as an example of a strange deviation from nature, or a monster. Spock turned to see who had called his name. It was one of the boys from his class, Mark Fletcher, flanked by his friends.

“Yeah, I'm talking to you.”

“What is it?” Spock asked. Though his classmate was approaching him with a look of loathing on his face, Spock could do nothing but give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, Spock was not completely sure what loathing was, let alone its correspondence to the boy before him.

“What were you thinking, idiot?” The boy's words stung, but Spock maintained his composure. “I thought I told you never to beat me on a test again.”

“I am sorry,” Spock apologized. “I do not wish to upset you, but am I not supposed to do as well as possible when presented with an examination?”

The kid smirked. “Don't be a smart-aleck. My mom said that if I don't do the best at science this semester, she'll cut my allowance in half. And I thought I already told you to score lower than me on purpose so that wouldn't happen.”

“You will have to make other arrangements,” Spock insisted. “Or, you could simply try harder.”

Spock turned his gaze away, sweeping the street again for signs of his mother's car. She wasn't there. His heart seemed to contract and forget to expand. “Don't make me tell you again, Freak. I'm the best one in the class. Got it?”

“Your grades would suggest otherwise,” Spock answered.

“That's it!” He jumped on Spock like a wild sehlat, and both of them fell to the ground, Spock's head hitting the stairs with a crack. Sweaty, grass-stained knuckles pounded his arms and face. Everything happened so fast. He did not hear or see. But he did feel the blows cease, and only then did Spock open his eyes. His classmate had been pulled off him by another, fair-haired boy, who was doing his very best to wrestle Mark into submission.

“Stop it, Mark! Leave 'im alone!”

“Jim!” Mark gasped. “What the hell d'you think you're doing? Let go of me!”

“Only if you promise to leave 'im alone!”

“Okay, okay! I promise!” Jim, the fair-haired one, let Mark loose. “What's the big idea?” Mark asked, bruised notes in his voice. “You trying to kill me?”

“Only trying to stop you from being an idiot!” Jim shouted, flaring up. “Whaddid he ever do to you?”

“He beat me on the science test, Jim, even after I asked him not to. That's not fair.”

Jim did not even look at Spock as he continued the negotiation. “What's unfair about him getting the best grades he can get?”

“My mom said she'd cut my allowance in half if I didn't do the best in science this semester. Freak's the only one in my way.”

“Then you gotta study harder!” Jim declared. “Settling stuff by fighting isn't the right way!”

“Fine!” Mark retorted. “Stick up for the Freak!”

"Maybe I will!” Jim hollered.

“Then you're not sitting with us at lunch tomorrow!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Mark hurried down the stairs, his friends in tow, and ran down the street, around the corner, and out of sight.

Jim stood over Spock, half-hunched over, resting from his wrestling match. A single bead of sweat ran down his cheek as he turned towards Spock, at long last, with steady, fiery eyes. He was not a particularly handsome boy. He wasn't really all that tall or muscular, even for a boy of eight. His fair hair was thin and messy, sticking up in all directions atop his head. But there was something incredible about the way his face was set, the way his mouth resolved itself as he drew breath, the way his eyes seemed to be on fire. Had the edges of his lips and eyebrows not been gentle when Jim looked at Spock - the gentleness portraying good intentions and peace - Spock would have been genuinely frightened.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jim got down on one knee at Spock's side. “You're Spock, aren't you?”

Spock would rather have spent a week alone in the Forge than reply. He was sick and tired of Humans, and their constant need to intrude upon each other's lives. Just looking at Jim was painful. He had had enough Human voices and faces.

“It's alright. I'm not gonna hurt ya.” Jim extended a hand. “Let me help you up.” Recoil. Defence mechanism. Unwanted contact. “No, wait! You don't need to be afraid.”

Afraid. Adjective. Scared, fearful, disquieted, apprehensive, timid, timorous.

“It wasn't fair, what Mark did to you. Listen, I'm never gonna let anyone beat you up again. You never did anything to 'im.” Spock tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but when he moved, he started to reel through space, physically dizzy, feeling ill. The back of his head throbbed. “Easy, there!” Jim said, and Spock felt a supportive arm around his shoulders. It was better than skin-to-skin contact, at least, and the spinning had stopped.

“Please, you must not touch me.”

“But you bumped your head. I gotta help you back on your feet.”

“I require no assistance.”

“Spock, you just gotta trust me.”

Trust. Verb. To rely upon or place confidence in someone or something. To have confidence; hope.

Confidence. Like Jim. Like Jim when he leaped into the fight that he had not started. Like Jim when he laughed at Mark's empty threats. Like Jim, sticking up for the Freak.

And everything was alright.

* * *

When Spock awoke, he was tucked into his bed at home. It was evening, the time of day that Spock liked the best, because the blushing sky reminded him of Vulcan. He seldom observed sunset from outside, due to the concurrent drop in temperature, but, luckily, his bedroom window faced West. The setting sun was the light of his eyes.

"Hey! You're awake!” Jim was there, all grinning and askew, in a folding chair next to Spock's bed. Sol was reflected in his pupils, redoubling Spock's impression that Jim was on fire inside. “How'd'ya feel?”

“Much better than before,” Spock replied. His memory of what had happened after Mark had run away was foggy at best, but he remembered Jim's unabashed physical contact. “Please forgive me for troubling you with helping me. I'm grateful that you were -”

_HE'S TOUCHING MY HAND, MY BARE HAND, MY SKIN! JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK AGE EIGHT RIVERSIDE IOWA! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SUNSET IT SURE IS WARM OUT I HOPE SPOCK'S OKAY I WONDER WHAT'S FOR DINNER BUT I'M NOT HUNGRY MOM! SPOCK GREEN WARM SUNSET RED SPOCK EARS HANDS EYES WARM! SMILE TOUCH HOLD FRIENDS! GOOD!_

“AAAHH!”

“Spock!” Jim unconsciously let go of Spock's hand. “What's wrong?”

Spock started to cry. It was completely involuntary. He was sobbing before he knew that the emotion had welled up inside him.

“Mrs. Sarek! Mrs. Sarek, come quick!”

Amanda came pounding up the stairs and dashed down the hall, bursting into Spock's bedroom and shoving Jim out of the way as she reached the bed. Amanda knew better than to embrace her son, no matter how much her heart told her she had to. She merely sat on the bed near Spock's knees and smoothed his blankets, making gentle noises with her mouth.

But Spock was not interested in his mother. His eyes moved to Jim, now looking small and weak and uncertain. It was little short of a miracle. Something about Jim - the mere sight of him, nonetheless - slowed Spock's heart rate, breathing, and body temperature.

Friend. Noun. A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

Spock wondered if this was what made I-Chaya purr. What made his mother and father a couple. What put the thought of hostility out of one's head completely. It was a little more serendipitous than camaraderie, a little more casual than companionship, and a little more intimate than simple favorable regard.

It was a warm breeze at the end of the day. It was the shimmering coals at the bottom of a roaring fire. It was soft, careworn comfort that swaddled sleeping forms. It was the gentle rhythm of a porch-swing, moving back and forth. It was carelessness without consequence. It was a joyous, racing pulse. It was life without want. It was colors too vivid to see.

It was what made the world more bearable, more fantastic. It was what put hearts at ease. It was what made the heavens sing.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, Spock?” Jim inched a little closer to Spock's bed, and leaned his elbow upon the white down pillow stained green with blood, the unmistakably pointed ears, the wan complexion, the keen eyes.

“I think it's a beautiful sunset, too.”


	3. Cheri the Amoeba

**_Cheri the Amoeba_ **

Spock did not at all like being absent from school, even for a day. But after the incident on Tuesday, Amanda would not let Spock return to school until Friday. His head had healed long before then, but his mother insisted. “Better safe than sorry,” Amanda quoted at him on Thursday over the breakfast table.

Jim visited Spock's house on Wednesday and Thursday after school let out. On Wednesday, Jim introduced Spock to the television set that had up until then been neglected in the house. Jim had insisted on watching vintage cartoons from before the Nuclear Era, but Spock did not find them amusing or pleasing at all. They were, in fact, quite distasteful. He failed to see how talking caricatures of animals attempting to do harm to each other was supposed to be humorous. He practically balked when Daffy Duck would run off a cliff and forget to fall to the ground below, or when the Coyote tried to use dynamite. “I do believe that is the most illogical thing that I have ever seen, Jim.”

But Jim just chuckled at the antics on screen, his face covered in cheez-dust from the snacks Amanda had provided.

“Mother,” Spock called to the kitchen, where Amanda was making dinner. “Mother, are you sure that this is perfectly normal for Terrans?”

“Certainly, darling,” Amanda answered, stepping into the living room with a spatula in her hand. “Terran boys and girls do this quite often.”

Spock pouted. “It is unproductive, illogical, and unhealthy.”

"And that's exactly why Terrans like to do it,” Amanda pointed out. “Spock, there are other programs on, you know. There are thousands of different channels.”

“I see no use in searching for a different program,” Spock remarked. “Not if they are all like this one.”

Amanda peered at the tube, and suppressed a giggle. “Looney Toons? I'd have bet your father's pointed ears that they weren't running this program anymore!” she exclaimed. She put her spatula down on a sideboard and flopped into an armchair, Jim and Spock seated on the floor mere inches in front of the TV set.

As the cartoon ended, Jim sighed. “They won't play any more for another hour. Mrs. Sarek, can I change the channel?”

“Please do,” Spock interjected. “What other kinds of programs are there?”

A wicked grin crept onto Jim's face. “Let me show you.”

* * *

On Thursday, Jim showed up at the Sarek household with a black eye.

“Gods almighty, Jim!” Amanda shrieked. “What, did you get hit by a bus?!”

“Almost,” Jim mumbled. “It's nothing. I've had my eyes socked before. It's no big deal.”

“Let me get some ice, at least!” Amanda flew into the kitchen to get an ice-pack from the freezer.

Spock tromped down the stairs, eager to see Jim after an entire day of interesting, but dry and outdated, science periodicals. “Jim,” he called. He stopped dead at the landing when he saw Jim's face.

“It is not normal for humans to look like this,” he stated. “Jim, is something wrong?”

Jim smiled weakly. “No, Spock. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Amanda dashed back in and handed Jim a towel full of ice. “That ought to bring down the swelling,” she said. “If your eye gets too cold, take it off for a few minutes, and then reapply. Got it?”

“Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Sarek.”

“Well, you boys spent all day yesterday in front of the tube. Why don't you do something productive today? Homework, studying...” Spock's mouth turned down slightly at the corners at the mention of more book work. “...tiered chess?” That made Spock light up.

“A splendid idea,” he said, almost glowing. “Jim, would you play tiered chess with me?”

“Play what?” Jim asked blankly. “Chess?”

"Yes – but with a three-dimensional board.”

“Alright! Teach me!” Jim insisted. “I'll learn.”

The boys went up to Spock's room together. Jim hadn't gotten a good look at it last time he was here, since he was in such a panic, but now he got a chance to really look around.

The walls were not decorated in the conventional sense. There were no childish drawings scotch-taped to the walls; there were no colorful, unusual prints at all. The walls were some eggshell-cream color. The windows were bare save for the blinds. The light fixture was frosted glass and brass. Conservative. The area rug that took up most of the floor was the same shade as the walls. Spock's bed was the tidiest darn thing Jim had ever seen. It looked like a hospital bed, except it was heaped with an electric heater at the feet and about twelve quilts.

Spock reached into his closet and took out a plain cardboard box. “We had this shipped ahead of us from Vulcan,” he said, as he put the box in the middle of the carpet. From it he took a beautiful sculpture, made of swirled chrome arabesques and planes frosted glass that sat parallel to the floor like little tabletops. He also withdrew two handsome pouches, one black, one white. He handed the white one to Jim.

There was a set of chess pieces inside. The white ones were made of some stunning, sparkly white rock that Jim had never seen; smooth, cold to the touch; they almost looked felicitous. The black ones were made of a resolute, black, rough, porous stone, sort of like very fine scoria. Spock began to put the black chessmen on the little glass tables.

“Jim?” he prodded, as Jim just stared at the sculpture.

“Nice statue, Spock, but where's the chessboard?”

Spock raised his eyebrows. “This _is_ the chessboard.” Jim gulped. Spock, clearly enjoying himself, went on. “You haven't played tiered chess? It's also called three-dimensional chess, space chess, galactic chess...its list of names goes on. It's just like normal, two-dimensional Terran chess, but...well...with an extra dimension added.”

“Who invented this thing?” Jim asked.

“I believe it was a Terran by the name of William Weber, an American, in the early 21st century. It's all the rage in Star Fleet. That's how it got to Vulcan; that's how I learned it.”

Jim's ears pricked. “Did you say _Star Fleet_?” he asked.

“Yes,” Spock responded. “Why?”

“No reason,” Jim deflected. “Just teach me how to play space chess.”

* * *

 _"_ _Amoebas are only one cell big._

_They have fuzzy edges just like a wig._

_They don't need chlor...chloro...chlorophyll to eat._

_They get their food with their false feet.”_

 

The third-grade class applauded politely as Mark Fletcher mock-bowed and retook his seat. Ms. Roberts smiled appreciatively at her second-best student. “Very good, Mark. I like how you used the word 'chlorophyll.'“

Mark beamed.

It was Friday. Also known as turn-homework-in-day. Spock had not been in class to receive the assignment on Wednesday. Everyone had had to write a poem about an amoeba. Mark had written one, Jim had written one...everyone had written one except Spock.

“It took me all night to make that up,” Mark boasted. “I bet it's the best in the whole class.” His friends sniggered.

“Well, who would like to go next?” Ms. Roberts asked. “Jim?”

Jim did not relish the duty of public speaking, but he didn't dare shy away from an opportunity to show off a little. “Alright, I'll go.” He had to walk by Mark's desk to get to the front of the class. Ms. Roberts wasn't looking. Mark stuck his foot out. Jim almost tripped, but caught himself.

“Looks like that shiner I gave ya yesterday's swelled up real nice,” Mark commented. Spock could not help but hear. “You're not gonna try to sit at our lunch table again until you ditch Freak. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear.”

Spock's heart dropped. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind at once: How to stop Mark, how to repay Jim, worried for Jim, Jim's conflicted, he wants to help me but misses his friends, must stop Mark, I'm sorry. He clenched his hands into fists.

“Go ahead, dear,” Ms. Roberts said. Jim cleared his throat.

 

_“I went on a trip to Antares eleven,_

_Way past Star-base twenty-seven._

_There I met an Amoeba named Cheri_

_Who had never ever caused dysentery._

_She's an omnivore just like me._

_She'll eat meat or food off a tree._

_Cheri's as real as a bar of soap._

_You can see her under a microscope.”_

“A space amoeba named Cheri?!” Mark hooted. “That's rich!”

“Mark, that's enough,” chided Ms. Roberts. “Jim, I think it was a wonderful poem. I like how you included some of your original ideas about space travel.” But her praise fell on deaf ears. Jim had deflated like a balloon with its tie undone. He slumped back to his seat and stuffed his poem harshly into his desk, whereupon he buried his head in his arms and sat completely still.

Something very unusual was happening to Spock on the other side of the room. Upon hearing Jim and Mark's conversation and Mark's sustained threat of excommunication from the group, Spock had felt a mixture of – dare he say it? - emotion. He felt angry, and sad, and confused, and hurt, and ashamed. The river behind the dam was roaring. The way that Mark had hurt Jim, just with words, was unbearable for some reason. Spock had heard, so Mark may as well have assaulted the both of them.

And of course Spock cared. Jim cared for him, did he not?

“Mark,” Spock spoke up.

“Yeah?” Mark answered lazily, not even granting Spock the courtesy of eye contact.

“It has been recorded that amoeba-like organisms exist in space, and that they can grow to be over ten feet in diameter.”

“So?”

"I find that Jim's poem does not only describe an amoeba's diet, as does yours, but goes on to include information about similarities between the specie of amoeba on Earth and its interstellar relatives. In this respect, I find that it is superior to yours.”

Mark snorted. “Fine. Whatever. Nobody cares what you think, Freak.”

“The chatter among our classmates would indicate otherwise,” Spock half-stated, half-teased.

It was true: everyone was looking at either Spock or Mark. “What're you all looking at?” Mark said loudly. “Who cares whose poem's better?”

“That will be enough!” Ms. Roberts chided. “Now, we'll move on to math.”

“Ms. Roberts,” Spock called.

“Yes, Spock?”

“I have not presented my homework.”

“You were absent the day it was assigned, so I don't expect it from you until next Tuesday.”

“I wrote it during lunch. I went to the library and studied the record-tape on amoebae.”

Ms. Roberts looked only a little taken aback. It was Spock, after all. “Alright. Please, come up to the front of the class.” Spock did so. He recited his poem from memory:

 

_“Amoebae are unicellular creatures_

_Which have several unique and apparent features._

_Of cellulose and chloroplasts Amoebae are free;_

_They ingest their food phagocytotically.”_

Nobody clapped or booed or even moved. Ms. Roberts was the first to speak. “My, that was very informative, Spock. Only, are you sure that you know what all those big words mean?”

“If you are referring to my polysyllabic scientific terms, then yes. I am quite familiar with all of their definitions.”

“Of course you are,” Ms. Roberts said, mostly to herself. “Thank you, dear.”

Out of all the varied blank and dumbstruck faces in the room, Spock had only really looked at two during his recitation. There was Jim, no longer upset, eyes a little damp and shining; and there was Mark, as red as the Vulcan sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shout out to my dad, William Weber, 1958-2001.   
> Love for Star Trek is genetic.


	4. A Need-to-Know Basis

**_A Need-to-know Basis_ **

After school on Fridays, Mrs. Kirk let her son run around the small town of Riverside, Iowa unattended until six o' clock when she served dinner. Spock's mother was as inclined to let Spock do the same as the Forge was a good place for building snowmen. Which was not at all.

“Oh, _pleeeeaaaaaaasssssssseeee,_ Mrs. Sarek!” Jim whined, flinging himself to his knees in front of Amanda on Friday afternoon. “Let Spock play outside with me!”

“I don't think so, Jim,” Amanda responded. “It's too cold for him to stay outside long, and he has studying to do besides. On top of that, d'you think I want to let him skin his knees and stain his clothes like the rest of the children you play with? I don't want my son terrorizing the neighborhood, climbing up trees, racing bicycles...”

Jim snorted. “I don't hang around with those jerks anymore, Mrs. Sarek. They're too dumb for me.”

“Even so,” Amanda said, “I'm his mother and I know what's best.”

“Mother,” Spock interjected, “may I be allowed to contest your logic?”

“God above,” Amanda sighed. “Not the L-word. But yes, Spock, go on.”

“During the two weeks that we have been here, you have impressed upon me the importance of a typical Terran existence. Staying indoors while the other children went outside to play would be most atypical, would it not?”

“I suppose so,” Amanda mused. “You make a valid point, Spock. But it's still not enough to sway my decision.”

“You have supported normalcy even at the cost of my own health,” Spock continued.

“When have I ever?” Amanda asked, frowning. “I've always done my best to protect you and keep you safe!”

“The television, mother?” Spock replied. “It's hardly healthy, yet you had me watch it anyway.”

Amanda exhaled. “I guess you're right. I just get a little carried away where you're concerned, dearest. I'm upset when you are out of my sight for more than a few moments.”

“A human emotion, mother. Quite illogical.”

“So is playing outside,” Amanda retaliated.

“Not to me,” Spock affirmed. “I am merely doing what you asked me to. I am trying to live the life of a normal, eight-year-old Terran boy.”

“Very well,” Amanda said resignedly. “Go, play outside. But be home no later than six o' clock!”

Spock raised his eyebrows. “Why would I want to be out all night and into the morning?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I meant eighteen hundred hours, soldier.” Spock did not respond. “Spock?”

“Yes, mother?”

“I said be back at eighteen hundred.”

“Oh. I did not realize that you were addressing me.”

“Just scoot!” Amanda cried, smacking at Jim's and Spock's ankles playfully with her spatula.

* * *

 

The streets were full of children that Friday. It was warm and slightly humid, so Jim's hair frizzed out around his head like a halo in the sticky air. Small, bare feet padded across sidewalks and grassy lawns. Bicycle bells chimed from every corner of the neighborhood, dogs barked, children laughed, and there was even a kite in the distance, beyond the town limits, past where the houses turned into field.

Jim and Spock – the latter still flopping along in an overlarge sweatshirt – had made a beeline for the Town Green, bountiful in playground equipment, level grass for playing on, and excellent climbing trees. Jim had sworn on his honor that the best climbing tree in the county rested squarely at the center of the Green.

"Tree-climbing is really important if you wanna be a kid, Spock. It's almost an art, even. Trees are great places for secrets, eating lunch, building forts, or just hiding. You gotta learn how to climb 'em.”

“If you lead the way up this tree, Jim, I will follow.”

The lower branches of the tree were thick and strong. Spock put his hands exactly where Jim had put his hands, and his feet exactly where Jim had put his feet. It was fairly easy, physically, but it stimulated the mind like a puzzle. Spock rather liked this aspect of tree-climbing. About halfway up the tree, he decided to start choosing his own hand- and footholds. Touching the bark was an odd experience for Spock, because even though the tree was not sentient, he could sense a sort of languishing content that filled it, and the water running through its veins.

The top of the tree was about twenty feet above the ground. By the time that Jim and Spock had reached the summit, they were well-concealed by the lower boughs and well out of sight of the other kids. “There,” Jim proclaimed, “nobody'll see us up here. Mark likes to play here, but if he wants to pick on us today, he'll have to look real hard!”

“Jim,” Spock said, “I have been meaning to ask you about the discoloration around your eye. Is it a sort of wound?”

Jim perched himself on a branch and kicked his feet up on the trunk. “Yeah,” he answered.

“How did you get hurt?”

“Mark punched me in the face after I asked him to let me sit with him at lunch on Thursday. I thought the whole Freak thing would be over by then, but Mark can stay angry for a real long time.”

“Jim, I do not mean to cause you loneliness.”

“I'm not lonely!” Jim protested. “I got you to play with!”

“But you still want to be with Mark, don't you?”

Jim frowned. “Yeah, I do. I dunno why, after they were so mean to me...and you, too. I feel like I gotta fit in with 'em.”

"Do not separate from them for my sake. I'll be fine on my own.”

“No way!” Jim shouted. “I'm not gonna let 'em pick on you anymore! Just 'cuz you're different doesn't mean they can do whatever they want!”

For the second time that day, Spock had to deal with a rather unruly emotion. This time, it was something he had a hard time finding a word for. It made him sad for Jim and happy for Jim at the same time, in a way that made him closer to Jim. The way that Jim wanted to look after Spock, without a logical motive, was just fantastic.

“I studied all the record-tapes available to me on Humans before I came here...yet I still have so much to learn.”

“Are you kidding?” Jim replied. “You've been to other planets, you've been in a star cruiser, your dad's an ambassador... You know way more than me. You gotta help _me_ catch up.”

“Why do you keep mentioning outer space?”

“I just think that space is really cool, and I kinda wanna be a Star Fleet officer when I grow up.” Jim's eyes did that funny thing where they caught on fire. Spock had determined that this meant that Jim was excited. “I want my very own star ship someday! Galaxy-class! With my own crew, and my own uniform, and everything! I'll be the best captain ever! I'm gonna have the best grades in the academy, too, and I'll be captain by the time I'm twelve!”

“How optimistic of you,” Spock remarked. “I didn't know that they admitted eight-year-olds to the academy.”

Jim's face fell. “They don't,” he admitted. “But it's a great dream, right?”

* * *

Jim and Spock only managed to stay in the tree for half an hour before their rears got sore and limbs grew stiff. So they blundered back down to the town Green, where the rest of the boys and girls were still hard at play, flinging Frisbees and hula-hoops, making small tiaras out of daisies and eating the wild apples that grew there.

A band of teenagers rounded the corner, strolling slowly around the block, laughing loudly and playing their music even louder. “Hey, short stack!”

“Sam!” Jim shouted, and ran up to the gang of teens. One of them grabbed him and lifted him high in the air, swinging him around in circles over his head. Jim shrieked with laughter, and Sam passed him off to another teen who tickled his ribs mercilessly.

“Hey, squirt! Nice to see ya!” Sam said, taking Jim into his arms again and crushing him in a bear-hug. “How you been?”

“Great! I missed you, bro. How long're you staying this time?”

“Oh, I dunno, squirt. Maybe a month or something. We'll see.” Sam put Jim back on the ground and held his hand tightly. “Who's your new friend?”

“Oh, this is Spock!” Jim answered, pulling Sam over to where Spock was standing stock-still. “He's visiting from planet Vulcan.”

“Vulcan?” Sam repeated. “Oh, that's cool. I have a classmate who's from Vulcan. I dig that.”

“Where do you go to school?” Spock asked.

“The American Galactic Academy,” Sam said. “It's sorta like Star Fleet Academy, except it's not run like the military. Right now, I'm studying to become a pioneer on a class M planet. I'm taking all sorts of courses, like Biological Theory, Survival Prep, Ecology, Intro to Exolinguistics, Sociology, Astronomical Geology, stuff like that.”

“I didn't know that you could study for space travel outside of Starfleet.”

“Yeah, it's not a really popular school, but it's credible if you wanna go into space and not join the Fleet. If ya have a degree, it makes it a lot easier to find a job with a transport company, or on a science team or something. I'm not exactly sure what I wanna do yet, but I'm interested in colonizing other planets.”

“Fascinating,” Spock said.

“Thanks,” Sam said. “Anyway, I came down here with the guys to find Jimmy boy. It's about six o' clock, kiddo.”

“Okay, Sam,” Jim replied. “Can we walk Spock home first? He lives down the street from us.”

“Sure thing, short stack.” Jim reached out for Spock's hand, so he could hold that, too, but Spock recoiled.

“Jim, just let him walk beside you.”

“But why? We're friends.”

“Vulcans have different ways than we do. Spock's way is to be near ya without touching you.”

"Fine,” Jim pouted slightly, and fell into step with his older brother. Spock walked alongside them on Jim's other side. The other teens followed at their leisure, leaving one by one and disintegrating into the evening.

Spock's house was only five blocks from the town green. Amanda was waiting on the front porch-swing, a pitcher of lemonade and glasses on the side-table. When the three boys climbed the steps to the front door, she eyed Sam briefly, and then seemed to approve of him, despite his cranky teenage demeanor. She served each a glass of lemonade, and they all drank, Sam and Jim leaning against the railing, and Spock joining his mother on the swing.

“So, how was your afternoon?” Amanda asked her son.

“It was enjoyable,” Spock said. “Jim and I climbed a tree, wherein we discussed things.”

“Do you like playing outside with the other children?”

“Whether I like it or not is irrelevant, mother.”

“Oh, but it _is_ relevant, to me, at least. I care about what you feel.”

“I am neither particularly in favor of or averse to it.”

“But you said it was enjoyable.”

Spock bit his lip. Sam butted in: “Well, it was a good afternoon, either way, but me and Jimbo gotta go home for dinner. We're gonna be late.”

Amanda thanked the Kirk boys and they were halfway down the block when Jim turned on his heel and sped back to the porch. “I almost forgot! Can I talk to Spock for a minute?”

“Sure,” Amanda replied. She picked up the pitcher and brought them back inside. Spock and Jim were the only ones on the street, but Jim got really close and whispered in Spock's ear anyway.

“You wanna do something fun later tonight?”

“What?”

“I wanna show you something.”

"Why can't you show me now?”

“Because one, we're not allowed, and two, it's way cooler at night. You wanna see it?”

“I suppose so. I'll ask my mother –”

“No! You can't tell 'er! It's gotta be a secret, Spock.”

“Why?”

Jim sighed. “Sometimes, you just gotta trust me. Some things just gotta be secret! So do you wanna come with me or not?”

“I will not disobey my mother.”

“Well, your mom wants you to be a normal kid, right? This is something that a lot of kids do, sneaking out of the house. And it's not hurting anyone. If anything, you'll be doing what your mom says by keeping it a secret.”

“That is logical,” Spock reasoned. “I suppose asking permission would defeat the purpose of the expedition.”

“Yeah, that too. So if you wanna go, leave your bedroom window unlocked. Cuz you're gonna climb out it and onto the porch, and then climb down the drainpipe and meet me here on the street.”

“Alright,” Spock agreed. “When shall I join you?”

"I'll give you a signal. I'll throw a rock at your window or something.”

“Acknowledged,” Spock said. “I won't tell mother anything, alright?”

Jim grinned wickedly and nodded. “I gotta go – I'll see you after dark!”


	5. Back of My Head

**_Back of My Head_ **

               Spock wasn’t quite sure that he was doing the right thing by sneaking out of his house at night to hang out with Jim. Sure, Jim had presented him with a logical explanation for it: all normal Terran boys and girls snuck out sometimes, so by not telling Amanda his plans he was, in fact, obeying her wishes.

               However, something didn’t seem right about the whole thing. Coercion was wrong. It went against the teachings of Surak. Then again, so was having friends. Everything Spock knew about friendship and the idea of t’hy’la was from the old times. Surak taught that friendship was illogical, and, therefore, unnecessary. Friendship could even be harmful.

               Now, Amanda had tried for years to convince her son that reaching out to a fellow-creature and offering company was a good thing. She insisted that there was nothing wrong about wanting a friend, and there was nothing wrong with friendship. Spock, however, knew better. Friendship was superficial. Friendship was what had gotten Jim hurt, and what caused his classmates to shun him. Friendship was ugly. Surak had been right.

               When Amanda had tucked Spock in for the night, he had not listened to her praise his efforts to finally make some friends and be normal. He was busy mentally reprimanding himself for letting it slip that his day had been “enjoyable,” and then not being able to fake indifference. He hadn’t lied. He had had fun.

               “Goodnight, Spock,” Amanda whispered, a silhouette in the door frame as she turned off the lights. “Pleasant dreams.”

               Spock gulped. “Goodnight, mother.” Amanda closed the door. Spock immediately threw his mountain of quilts off and took a minute to make up his bed neatly. Then, he climbed on top of the bed and leaned against the wall, back straight and head held high.

               The cold seeping in from outside was uncomfortable and soothing at the same time on the back of his head. He closed his eyes and began to meditate.

               Unwarranted feeling was no reason not to be with Jim. Unwarranted feelings were not to be blamed for anything. They were natural. They could not be helped. It was difficult to decide what to do. First, Spock had to let the experiences he had had the last day go. He had to suppress the combination of anger and pride he had felt in the classroom today when he had outdone Mark. He had to forget the terrible mix of sorrow and joy that had washed over him when Jim told him about his black eye. He had to forget this uncanny indecision about sneaking out.

               He had merely done a better job than Mark once more. His concern for Jim would not change anything. Sneaking out tonight was logical.

               But, if he let all those feelings go, and did all he could to keep any more he might suffer under control, then that would mean he’d stop caring about Jim.

               Was that a good thing?

               As far as Spock knew, caring about Jim had done no harm. He had not made any mistakes with his logic thus far. He had not taken any risks, not compromised anyone’s safety, and not made any rash decisions.

               But then there was the black eye.

              That wasn’t because you like Jim, that’s because Jim likes you. The two feelings aren’t linked.

               Then again, maybe they are. If Jim didn’t like you, would you like him back?

               Perhaps. You originally started liking Jim because he liked you. So it is logical to assume that if Jim stops liking you, you’ll stop liking him.

               But there’s nothing logical about friendship, and that’s exactly why Surak spoke out against strong emotional attachments in the first place.

               But to silence all feeling in a race that had once lived so abundantly in its passions! It was a curse! It was a curse to be Vulcan, to have to struggle with logic and emotion, both so strong within! If only…

               If only…Terran…

               Stop being friends with Jim. Stop caring. Just let it go.

               I can’t.

               Look at yourself. Green-blooded, pointy-eared; you don’t have a choice.

               Something ricocheted off the window pane. Jim was standing in the street below, waiting.


	6. Ain't no White Pickup Fence

**_Ain't No White Picket Fence_ **

Amanda was in the habit of going to bed early. It was the Vulcan way to go to sleep shortly after dinner and rise well before breakfast, a way she had adapted to over her ten years living there. It was eight o' clock. Spock was in bed, and would likely be asleep soon.

               Amanda flopped back downstairs in her slippers and bathrobe, and plopped herself in an armchair in front of the television. She grabbed the remote and began to flip through some of the more popular late-night channels. She stopped at a soap opera for a few minutes, then kept clicking upwards. She stopped at a few comedy shows, an adult cartoon, and a reality show about an Andorian woman who had had a litter of thirty young. Ten-thousand channels and nothing on.

               She glanced over to the clock on the end-table. It was only eight-thirty. It wasn't fair. She had been a night owl when she was younger, up until two or three in the morning every day of the week. Sarek had changed that, of course.

               He had changed a lot of things.

               Amanda sighed. Everyone used to call her “Manny” in college. It was a little inside joke that had started in freshman year when her mother had cropped her hair so short, she looked like a boy. The name had stuck, but Amanda hadn't minded. She thought it was cute. She even wore a false mustache around for a week, playing along with her friends. She had been a flirt, an outspoken member of the community, and a little bit of a party animal. She had not, by any means, been a virgin when Sarek had started to court her. She liked to think that it was her wild spirit and “rockin' bod” that had gotten Sarek's attention in the first place.

               But then it was all wearing dresses and acting like a lady, going to weird religious ceremonies she didn't really understand, sitting through long conferences, looking pretty, keeping quiet. It was difficult, but it all paid off in the end when she got Sarek alone and he would tell her he loved her in that strange, alien manner that Amanda so adored.

                It was just that Sarek wasn't her last name. Everyone only called her that because they couldn't pronounce her Vulcan surname, which she had taken from her husband when T'Pau had married them. It was a little annoying, everyone calling her “Sarek” all over the place.

               She hadn't been kissed on the lips for fifteen years, but no human had touched her as deeply as Sarek had with his hand-kisses, which didn't only connect him to Amanda physically, but allowed them both to share the spark of a mental bond between husband and wife. They would think the same thoughts, feel the same feelings (as much as Sarek tried to deny it), and when they fell asleep holding hands, they would dream the same dreams.

               Nine o' clock. Amanda picked one of the sleepy bugs out of her eyes. Maybe she'd put in a video. Something action-y. Maybe make a bowl of popcorn. And a diet Coke. Nah, a regular. She needed the caffeine.

               That was the problem with her: She was bored. Sure, she enjoyed being on Earth again and keeping a Terran house, cooking and cleaning and the like, but she never _did_ anything. How was it that country women got into each others' good graces? Amanda was pretty sure that she had to go to some sort of community event and bring either the best damn cookies or the best damn barbeque this side of Proxima Centauri with her. Well, Sarek had always admired her stubbornness...

* * *

 

Amanda hadn't known what the doorbell in her house had sounded like until that night when Sam Kirk came to call at eleven-thirty. She had been in the middle of “Rocky III” when an unidentifiable gong sounded in the front hall. She ignored it, slumping further into her lumpy armchair, but then it went off again. Scowling, she marched to the front door and opened it.

               Now, Amanda hadn't liked Sam Kirk in the first place. He was a crazy teenager, for one thing, and did his hair like all the crazy teenagers did. He wore all the crazy clothes and crazy shoes, too. Despite being a crazy teenager in her younger days, Amanda didn't appreciate that rebellious, young side of culture anymore. Sam, however, had dropped the arrogant authority-snubbing look from his eyes, and looked completely clean and honest when Amanda found him standing under the yellowing porch light.

               “Sam, what the hell d'you think you're doing on my porch this late at night?”

               “I hope I didn't wake you, ma'am.”

               “Luckily for you, I couldn't sleep,” Amanda replied, crossing her arms. “Someone had better be dead or something.”

               “Well, actually, Spock and Jimmy –”

               Amanda's annoyance turned to panic in a heartbeat. “What's happened to them?” she squealed. “Tell me, Sam! Where are they?”

               “Calm down, ma'am! I actually came to tell you that they're both just fine. Thought you mighta noticed by now that Spock isn't in his bed.”

               A pause. “He isn't?”

               “No, ma'am. He and Jimmy left the house about ten minutes ago, and I followed 'em a little ways to Farmer Cormack's empty field – you know, the one he's left fallow for a while now.”

               “Why would Spock sneak out? He's never done anything like this before,” Amanda mused, as she slumped down onto the porch-swing.

               “It might have to do with Jimmy,” Sam replied. “He told Spock something that neither of us heard before he came home for dinner tonight. I bet they planned to sneak out together.”        

               “Why would Spock go with him? Spock never, ever disobeys me. He knows darn well that it's dangerous out there.”

               “Ma'am, I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't Vulcan. There aren't any bloodthirsty critters out there waiting to eat stray kids for dinner. The bloodthirstiest thing I can think of would be Mrs. Cormack's poodle. And it's scared of Jimmy, after he gave it a good smack on the nose back in July.”

               The night air was cool, a nice break from the simmering daytime heat. There was a warm breeze whipping through the town of Riverside that night, and it rustled all the trees and tall grasses alike. Stars shone brightly.

               “I bet they're just heading to that little hill that Jimmy likes to go to when he's upset. Bless him, he probably still thinks nobody knows about him sneaking out. But I don't wanna bust his bubble. He needs a place all to himself, a place to play Spaceman when the whole damn world just gets him down.”

               “And you think he's taking Spock along with him?”

               “Yes, ma'am, I do. Jimmy is just mad about your son. All he talked about during dinner was Spock. And they've only known each other for, what, four days?”

               Amanda smiled weakly. “They hit it off really well. Did Jim tell you what happened on Tuesday, and how they met?”

               “Yeah, he did. He mentioned something to me about touching Spock's hand...”

               This took Amanda slightly aback. She knew that Spock and Jim were practically best friends, but she hadn't known that her shy, socially awkward son had shared his thoughts, no matter how momentarily, with someone else... Why should he, when he didn't even let his own mother hold him? “What did he say, specifically?”

               “Just that for a second, he could kinda see the world from Spock's eyes. He said, suddenly, he knew all this stuff that he hadn't known before. I've heard of touch-telepathy before, but I thought it was just someone exaggerating about how great Vulcans are or something.”

               “Oh, not at all,” Amanda said gravely. “All you've heard is absolutely real. Most Vulcans are natural telepaths. I know Sarek is. When I hold his hand, I can share his thoughts and feelings. Sometimes we even share dreams when we hold hands in our sleep. When Spock was born, T'Pau – oh, that is, our high priestess – told us that Spock was very gifted and especially sensitive to the touch of other creatures. There were a few incidents when he was younger. Mostly just classmates poking fun at him, trying to make him upset. But we do know that while Spock is very sensitive and very, very gifted, he isn't old enough to control what he experiences, and what he passes on to the other person. Skin-to-skin contact makes him very uncomfortable.”

               Sam nodded. “I told Jimmy that he shouldn't hold hands with him on the way home.”

               “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate you looking after the boys this afternoon.”

               Sam grinned. “No problem, Mrs. Sarek.”

               “So what're you going to do now?”

               Sam sighed. “Go home, I guess. Make sure Jimmy gets home before ma gets up. The boy's trouble, but he doesn't deserve a hiding.”

               Amanda did some quick thinking. “Sam, why don't you tell you mom that Jim stayed the night here?”

               “What's that, ma'am?”

               “When the boys show up here in a few hours, I'll tuck them both in and let them sleep. You just tell your mom that Jim was at my place all night.”

               Sam blinked. “You'll cover for us?”

               “Sure, why not?” Amanda replied. “Boys will be boys, won't they? And it's not as if they're off doing something terrible. If you trust Jim, I trust Jim.”

               “Ma'am, I think you just made my little brother's week.”


	7. My Moon

**_My Moon_ **

Spock followed Jim away into the night, beyond the block his house was on, beyond the streets of Riverside, beyond the treeline in the backest of back yards, beyond even where the dogs went to play. The tall grass whipped at the boys' ankles and fingertips as they ran through fallow fields and riverbeds. The night air tickled Spock's ears as it flew across his face, running upwind, running towards a very special place.

               Sure, there was a faster way to get to the hill. Jim could have gotten there in half the time if he had wanted to. They'd have to go a little out of the way to go by that path: They'd have to jump over two extra fences and climb up a dead tree, but the long way was the right way. That was the way it was in the beginning. That was the way it was now. You had to go around in circles to get there.

               Over a stagnant creek near where all the old tires were dumped. Up another tree, so you wouldn't have to climb the ridge. Follow the row of Queen Ann’s Lace flowers until you get to the barbed wire fence. Turn left at that scraggly bush with the robin's nest in it. Edge around Farmer Cormack's cornfield, and then you were home-free.

               Jim grabbed the overlong end of Spock's sleeve and dragged him up a well-beaten trail to the crest of a small hill, a mere bump upon the land. It was actually closer to a pile of dirt than a hill, but the principle was the same. It was like a castle up there. The boys could see everything clearly for miles in the moonlight, so bright it cast shadows.

               “I like to come here when I'm sad or angry,” Jim said. “I've known about this place for a few years, and nobody else does. Not even Sam. It's a complete secret.”

               “No it's not,” Spock replied. “I know about it. It's not a secret anymore.”

               “Sure it is!” Jim assured him. “It used to be _my_ secret, but now it's _our_ secret.”

               Like the secret Spock kept from Amanda. She had no idea that they were there.

               “Hoo-ee!” Jim yawned, stretching enormously. “Isn't it beautiful?”

               Spock fully intended to answer. He shuffled his feet. He itched his nose. He cleared his throat. There was so much to say – just about everything – but he couldn't open his mouth.

               “Well?” Jim turned to his friend expectantly. “Whaddaya think?”

               I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. I should be at home, asleep. Even if I were to go home and fall asleep this instant, I would only get five-point-three hours of sleep, which is an insufficient amount to restore my energy fully.

               Jim crossed his arms, starting to get agitated. “Spock? Hello? Do you like it here?”

               “Beauty is relative,” Spock blurted. That ought to do it. Go to one of the old default answers. State a fact.

               “Yeah, that's great. It's okay if you don't like it. I know it's really different than what you're used to. You can just say you don't like it, you know.”

               “That's not what I meant,” Spock stammered. Why was it that he had the academic ability of a human twice his age, but answering a simple question like this was so difficult?

               “What'cha thinking about?” Jim asked, seemingly less annoyed.

               “Many things,” Spock answered. “A lot has happened in the past few days. Today has been especially eventful, and I have much to wonder about. I have many questions that I must answer.”

               “Like what?”

               “I do not share my qualms with anyone, Jim. I am sorry.”

               Whether it was because Jim didn't know what the heck a “qualm” was, or because he respected Spock's privacy, he didn't push the issue further. Not for another few minutes at least, after Spock was done spacing out at the horizon.

               “So do you like it here or not?”

               “I thought I already answered that question.”

               “No, you didn't. You just said that beauty is elephant or something.”

               “Isn't that answer enough?”

               “Well, it would be, except what does that have to do with anything?”

               “It means that what one person finds beautiful may not be beautiful to another person.”

               “Yeah, but what do you think? Is this hilltop pretty or what?”

               “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

               Now Jimmy was really getting frustrated. “You know, Sam said Vulcans are supposed to be really smart, but you can't answer one stupid question!”

               “The question itself is irrelevant, and expressing my opinion would be illogical,” Spock retorted, trying not to raise his voice. Jim was yelling at him. That in itself was a challenge to deal with, not to mention the hurricane going on inside him: Stay friends with Jim. Don't stay friends with Jim. All the evidence had been presented. Stay. Don't stay.

               “Jeez!” Jim shouted. “How can you get, like, a billion on your report card and still be so dumb? You're like a computer! You know everything, but you can't do anything!”

               “I can do things!” Spock shouted back. It was no use trying to maintain composure any longer. “I can beat you in chess, I can solve a linear equation, I can –”

               “But that's stupid stuff!” Jim hollered. “I mean, you don't have a favorite color, or a favorite band, or a favorite food!”

               “Having favorites is illogical!”

               “Not having favorites is stupid!”

               “I'm not stupid!”

               “Yes, you are!”

               “No, I'm not!”

               “You're like the stupidest person I know! And if you don't tell me whether you like the stupid hill or not, I won't be friends with you anymore!”

               “Good! That's what I wanted, anyway!”

               “Fine! Then I'll be friends with you until I'm dead!”

               “You can't be friends with someone you don't even like!”

               “Watch me! I can be friends with whoever I want!”

               “Then why don't you go back and be friends with Mark? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you.”

               Jim looked like Spock had slapped him in the face. “Take it back,” he snarled.

               “No!”

               “Take it back!”

               _“No!”_

Jim tackled Spock, and they fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt, a flurry of fists and elbows. They tumbled back down the hill together, still wrestling all the way, and kept the fight going in the little gully at the bottom.

               And somewhere amidst all that commotion, Spock's hand found its way to Jim's cheek.

               Jim knew within that second that something terrible was going to happen, but he didn't have time to do anything to stop it. Spock's eyes had grown as wide as dinner-plates, his mouth slightly agape, staring into the distance; and in that same second, Jim felt himself launched into a somewhere. A sometime? No, a something.


	8. The Something

**_The Something_ **

It was the beginning of something. Jim found himself standing nonchalantly outside the High Council Chamber on Vulcan. He knew exactly where he was, and exactly what he was doing. He entered the tunnel that led to the chambers beyond, because that's what he was meant to do. There was something inside the chamber waiting for him. Something he had to see.

               The chamber was the delight of his eyes; new, wondrous, breathtaking; yet familiar. He knew every corner, every wall, every window, every vestibule like he had been there a thousand times before.

               Jim looked towards the far end of the hall. Spock was standing there, expressionless, brown eyes shining.

               Jim shifted his gaze up to a high, recessed window carved into the rock. Spock was sitting on the windowsill, curled into a ball, staring out the window, soaking up the sun.

               Jim turned again to look back at the hallway he had just passed through. Spock was crouched at its mouth, trying to hide behind one of the enormous pillars that decorated the chamber.

               Jim blinked, and he was looking at the far end of the chamber again, where Spock was still standing. Nothing about his appearance mattered except his eyes.

               Before Jim asked, he already had the answer. “This is our mind,” Spock said. “If we were anywhere else, would I be able to do this?” Had he really said it, or had he just thought it? Or had Jim known all along?

               The walls of the council-chamber faded away, and Jim and Spock stayed where they stood. They were in the middle of the Forge. A sandstorm ripped around them almost faster than they could see, aeons in progress right before their eyes. The boys were untouched. All Jim felt was a light, warm breeze, and Spock still stood there, now eyes, a nose, a mouth, and those fantastic ears.

               The Vulcan sun set, enormous and swollen in the sky, only partially visible in the haze. The sky turned dark and the sand all blew away in the wind. But the wind itself didn't stop. The gale continued long into the night – or was it long at all? – and thunder started to roll in the distance. It came in like an advancing army from over the horizon.

               It was by far the loudest thing that Jim had ever heard. It was, literally, the loudest noise that Spock could conceive. It was almost too loud to hear. It was as if God himself had struck the land with all his might, or as if the heavens were being rent in two. Had the noise been real, both the Human and Vulcan would have been killed by the sheer pressure of the blast.

               Jim fell to his knees and clapped his hands over his ears. “Spock, stop it! I'm afraid of thunder!” The instant the words were out of Jim's mouth, the storm ceased. From the ground grew a house, two stories high, dandelion yellow, and unassuming. First, the walls sprang from the ground, and then the floors, carrying the boys up to the second floor as they rose, and furniture blossomed like flowers. The sun came out. They were back in Riverside, overlooking farmer Cormack's field.

               Jim stood up slowly. He was in his bedroom. Everything was in its place: the stars-and-moons bedspread, the model starships, the comic mags, the Star Fleet posters tacked to the fading wallpaper. It was all there, down to the last bubble gum wrapper. “My room. But how are we here? I thought you were controlling this.”

               Spock cocked his head to one side. “I'm not really in control of anything, Jim. This is what we share. We're both here. I made this for you because this is what you know, so it is what I know.”

               “Sort of like how I knew where we were back there. We were in the Vulcan High Council Chamber. I knew because you know.” Spock nodded. He was all there now. He wasn't just eyes or just a face anymore. He turned away to stare out the window. Jim joined him.

               Outside, the Cormack farm had been replaced with a tempestuous seascape. The steel-gray waves bucked up and crashed upon each other with effortless ferocity. It was beautiful, methodical; yet upsetting. “What's the matter, Spock?” Jim asked. “There's something you want to tell me, isn't there?”

               “Yes. I'm just sorry that we both had to come here for things to go back to normal.”

               Jim followed the crest and fall of the waves with his eyes. He leaned up against the windowpane, his breath fogging up the glass. “I kinda know what the problem is. You really wanna be friends with me, but you can't.”

               Spock nodded. It was odd, in this world, how he didn't care that his eyes were tearing up and his nose was running. His mouth curled into a frown, and he did his best to bite back a sigh.

               “It's because you wanna protect me. It's crazy how I know all this stuff now. I think I'm really starting to get it.”

               “Our minds are the same now,” Spock choked out. “We share thoughts, feelings, memories; everything we have is common between us. I am you. You are me.”

               “Well, Surak mighta been smart for the time, but you can't depend on one guy to tell you how to live your life. That's not fair. Who says you gotta listen to him, anyway?”

               “Jim, Surak did what he could to keep everyone _alive_. You might know, but you don't understand. Friendship is an emotion that is detrimental to the faculties of logic. It's a crutch: It makes strong people weak, it creates social tension, it gets people hurt...”

               “Spock? Would you take a hit for me?”

               “Pardon?”

               “Would you take a hit for me?” Jim repeated. “Would you let yourself get hurt, if it helped me?”

               “Certainly,” Spock replied. “I would sacrifice much for you.”

               “Then why can't I do the same for you? You act like it's your fault that I got hurt – that I got this black eye – but it's not. It's _my_ fault. I chose to get punched in the face because I was being a good friend.”

               “But that's not fair to you, Jim.”

               “Would it be fair to you if you got hurt for me?”

               “Sure. It would be my choice,” Spock answered.

               “I chose this,” Jim said, taking his eyes off the sea-storm and looking at Spock. “I feel how you feel. It's awful when your friends get hurt or are in trouble. It makes you wanna do something crazy, doesn't it? But that just means you care.”

               “The pain is an indication of deeper feelings of attachment?” Spock asked. “That seems so backwards. It isn't right. It isn't fair!”

               Jim grabbed Spock's shoulders and wrenched him away from the window. “But that's the way it is! You gotta work through the pain if you want the good things! That's just part of being _human_!”

               “I don't know if I want to be human!” Spock cried. “I can't choose! It's too hard! I feel like giving up! I feel like I'm being ripped in two! I can't keep fighting myself! How am I supposed to go on when I'm my own worst enemy?”

               “ _Hold on to me_ ,” Jim said, just loudly enough for Spock to hear. “It comes all the way around. It's a cycle. Having friends – living this way – causes pain. But the fact that your friends will always be there and that they'll always love you takes the pain away.”

               Spock reversed Jim's grip. They held each other's shoulders for a moment, communicating without words. There was no shock from the contact within their own minds. “I want this,” Spock said.

               “I'm not going anywhere,” Jim vowed. “As long as you're with me, I'll never hurt you. I'll never abandon you. I'll watch over you.” Jim leaned forward so his forehead touched the bridge of Spock's nose.

               _This proximity is oddly comforting._

_Ha, I know. It's nice being able to hold onto the people you care about. You should try hugging your mom sometime. I bet she'd like it._

_I wish I could touch her without feeling her mind. Being half-Vulcan is a curse that way._

_Nah, it's cool. You're really lucky, you know?_

_I suppose I am. Thanks, Jim. So you'll be my friend, despite all the danger and challenges up ahead?_

_I thought I already said I would be! Weren't you listening?_

Spock couldn't help but crack a smile. _We will – how do you say it? – “stick together,” won't we?_

_No doubt about it. I super-double-triple promise we'll be together for a billion years._

_That's an awfully long time, Jim._

_Watch me. I'll keep my promise._

* * *

Spock saw Jim hovering over him. His hand was still on Jim's cheek. No time had passed. They were both still dirty and panting, just finished fighting with each other. “Spock? Are you okay?” Jim was confused, too. But he understood enough to know generally what was going on. Jim stood up and brushed himself off. “Crap. Mom's gonna kill me when she sees what I did to my jeans.”

               It was like the first day again! Jim was there, offering a hand out to his friend, and this time Spock took it in turn without hesitation. To his surprise, there was no lurch of consciousness. The world didn't swim, and he didn't learn anything weird or new about Jim, hoisting him back to his feet.

               “Wow,” Jim said. “We didn't go back to sharing a brain that time. Cool, huh?”

               “Very,” Spock answered. “So you had the same experience that I did. You went to the High Council Chamber –”

               “And then the sand, and then the thunder, and then we were back at my house. Yeah. I saw all the same stuff. I was there, too.”

               Jim wasn't really a random person anymore, destined to flit in and out of life and existence. He would always be there. And both the boys understood that that was just the beginning of it.

               “We gotta get home,” Jim declared. He took off jogging along the path they had come by. “You coulda told me you didn't wanna come!” he shouted over his shoulder to Spock, following him.

               “I didn't want to be rude!” Spock replied. “You said it was important!”

               “Man, I say a lot of stuff's important. Intergalactic peace is important, dad's job is important, Peanut Butter Tuesday at schools' important; the list goes on.”

               Spock felt a grin coming on, hiding in the corners of his cheeks. He let it come through – only because nobody was watching. The jog home was _way_ more fun than the hike there. Jim hooted and hollered like a crazy person in the wild patch of woods and tall grasses, leaping over fallen trees and rivulets pockmarking the land. Spock thought it was fun, too, but he didn't go as far as to hoot and holler like Jim.

               The neighborhood seemed really small, all of a sudden, and it didn't really matter that they were sweaty and covered in mud from the knees down. Who cared if anyone else was sleeping? Jim and Spock were wide awake under the streetlamps, crummy things for getting rid of darkness. It was all sorta crummy, but in a funny way.

               Spock had no trouble shimmying back up the drainpipe and onto the porch roof. He sat there, outside his own bedroom window, waiting for Jim to come up, too. Why not? If a kid was going to sneak out at night, he might as well make the most of it.

               They both jumped a mile when a rap came at the windowpane behind them. Amanda was crouched on Spock's bed, just beneath the windowsill, a skeptical eyebrow raised. Jim opened the window. “Mrs. Sarek, I can explain everything! I made Spock sneak out with me tonight. It wasn't his fault!”

               “I know, Jim,” she said, half-exasperated, half-relieved. “Sam came over about half an hour ago to give me the heads-up. He'd been on to you two all along.”

               Jim winced. “Man, just don't ground Spock, please.”

               Amanda smiled wearily. “I'm not going to ground either of you. Sam's gonna tell your mom that you're spending the night here, Jim. You boys come on in, and get into your pajamas.”

               Jim grinned exuberantly. “Thanks so much, Mrs. Sarek! Boy, do I owe you one!”

               “No problem,” Amanda replied, as Spock hoisted himself through the window, and Jim followed after. They both landed on Spock's bed. “Just go to sleep, now. It's late.”

               “Yes, mother,” Spock said. “And thank you for sparing us.”

               Amanda didn't say another word, but strode to the other end of the room, smiling, and shut the door. The boys got dressed without much fuss at all. Or, rather, Jim stripped out of everything but his tee-shirt and underwear, and Spock went from one sweatshirt and pair of long pants to another.

               Wordlessly – for what had needed to be said had already been taken care of – they got in bed together. Jim shoved all the covers on to Spock's side of the bed and piled them over him, like a cocoon. Their heads together on the same pillow, noses almost touching, they drifted off to sleep together and shared the same dream.


End file.
